


A Place For Her To Rest Her Head

by r_j_l



Series: Forging The Broken Pieces Of Us Into Something Better [1]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Developing Relationship, Exhaustion, F/M, Romantic Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-04
Updated: 2019-05-04
Packaged: 2020-02-21 15:19:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18704968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/r_j_l/pseuds/r_j_l
Summary: He's stuck there with her asleep on his shoulder but there's nowhere he'd rather be.





	A Place For Her To Rest Her Head

“Scoot over,” it’s said in a whisper in his ear before her lips brush quickly against his cheek, a hand on his back. 

He does as he’s asked, making room for her at the end of the bench while across the table Davos greats her with a slight head nod and a short, “Lady Arya.”

She seems to not be paying much attention to his companion, sitting down and resting her head on his shoulder before yawning and then finally answering the greeting, “Good night Ser Davos.” He feels her relaxing next to him, her eyes likely closing.

A hand finds his under the table and checks his pulse, something she’s been often doing for the past six days like she can’t quite believe he’s alive. Once she’s satisfied she takes his hand and places it on her knee. 

Her own hand coming up to take his cup, drinking the rest of the weak ale inside and putting it right back down where it was. It’s easy to picture it, the smile that must be on her lips, he’d wanted to finish that. 

Davos beings to chuckle and he can’t find it in himself to look up at the old man. “Oh to be young,” he says, “I’ll get you another lad, best not to disturb the lady.”

As he thanks Davos, he can feel the growl as it grows in her throat, not a lady, a deadly wolf.

Then they are alone, he hasn’t seen her today at all, he’s felt her watching him a time or two while he was working but couldn’t see where she was hiding or figure out what face she was wearing. He has no idea what she’s been up to or why she’s so tired.

Turning he places a kiss into her hair and whispers, “You eat already?”

“With Jon and Ghost,” she says it in between breaths and his eyes trace to where the great white beast has made himself a useful barrier, sleeping between Lady Sansa and Queen Daenerys under the high table. 

Lady Sansa finds his eyes, a smile on her lips as she looks at Arya and him. He looks back at Arya though as she wraps her arms around his to keep herself upright.

It’s not long after Davos returns with three cups that he knows she’s genuinely asleep, he can feel the weight of her head on his shoulder as she no longer holds her own head up. 

Davos doesn’t linger too long, they finish their conversation mostly, but he honestly keeps becoming distracted looking at Arya every time she moves a fraction. 

When Davos does leave them, he does so with a curious expression on his face, almost like pride.

He sips at the contents of his cup then slowly at hers for the next hour, more people enter the hall eat and leave, and he’s just there, happy to not move for the foreseeable future. 

One of the northern smiths comes over for a while, just ending his shift in the forge. They speak as much as they ever do, nothing important is shared, an update on the nails they've been making is the most interesting bit, but the company is welcome. 

Only when they’re once again alone does he hear a strange sound, it takes a moment for him to realize, but the small whistling noise is coming from her as she breathes.

“Arya, you’re snoring,” he says jostling her gently awake, amused that she’s capable of making such a noise still, he hasn’t heard it in so long, not for years. 

She moves off of him then, her grey eyes opening, clearly annoyed to have been woken. Untwisting her arms, she stretches, and one hand finds his, where it’s been resting on her knee since she put it there interlacing their fingers. He can only watch, hypnotized by her.

She lays her other arm on the table resting her head on it as she turns to look at him again, “Killed an assassin this afternoon, I’m allowed to snore.”

“Who were they here for?” he asks, curious as to whose life she saved this time.

“Daenerys,” she answers looking up at the now empty high table. 

She yawns again looking back to him, “Don’t worry the fool wasn’t in the castle for more than five minutes, didn’t even make it out of the stables alive.” She’s clearly pleased with herself. 

Leaning close to her face he rubs her knuckles with his thumb as he shakes his head, “Wasn’t worried, only impressed."

That brings a smile to her face, her eyes search his for something until they begin to drop.

“Dear?” he says, unwilling to let her fall asleep in the hall again.

“Not a deer, I’m a wolf,” her eyes finding his, confusion is all he can see from her, “You’re the only deer in this room.”

“Hells Arya, you are tired.” He's past being able to keep in his amusement, a few chuckles escaping him as he explains, “I only meant dearest.”

It's fascinating, watching as her mind catches up with his words, she's usually so quick.

Incredibly a blush rises on her cheeks, and he can't stop himself from kissing her there. She's so warm his lips feel like they'll never be cold again. 

Only then does she say the words, the ones that have slipped from her lips each of the six nights since the battle, "Come to bed."


End file.
